


you give the light i need

by eavis, foundfamilyvevo



Series: straight for your heart (wolfpack au) [4]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Bad Puns, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse (mentioned), Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 19:32:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9457442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eavis/pseuds/eavis, https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundfamilyvevo/pseuds/foundfamilyvevo
Summary: Harry and Niall have a plan. It's time to parent trap Louis and Zayn.(also feat. a lot of fruit related puns and narry flirting in a farmer's market)





	

**Author's Note:**

> there's a brief scene where niall has a panic attack. if this is triggery for u pls feel free to skip to the next bit!

He’d asked Zayn last night if he wanted to come with to the market, but Zayn had just asked dryly if the market had stopped being at six in the morning yet, and Harry’s protesting that it wasn’t until eight hadn’t really made a lot of difference, so Harry’s by himself again. He’s happily occupied smelling his newly purchased basil plant when he spots a youngish looking lad trying to buy some squash and looking extremely overwhelmed by Beneth leaning over the booth, ample cleavage nearly in his face as he tries to finish the interaction.

Harry nods to himself and settles the basil firmly in his bag, heading over and sidling in between Beneth and the boy. “If you were a vegetable,” he says, solemn, leaning forward just a little to look earnestly into the boy’s - very blue - eyes, “You’d be a cutecumber.”

The boy just stares at him, and Harry frowns a little. “No? Okay, what about...if you were a fruit, you’d be a fineapple?”

He hears Beneth huffing indignantly and stomping away, but he ignores it in favour of watching the smile creep very slowly onto the boy’s face. “Y’alright?” He asks, “Don’t want you to hurt yourself with any more of these.”

“I’m good, thanks for asking.” Harry smiles at him, his best one that he knows makes all his dimples show. “Wait, how about: Olive you so much it’s a squeeze.”

The boy laughs, short and quick, but Harry grins, victorious. “Oooh, I’ve got a better one, hang on: honeydew you know how good you look right now?”

“You seduce everyone with bad fruit pick up lines, then?” The boy rolls his eyes, slipping his squash into his bag and turning away.

“Just the nice Irish ones,” Harry says, cheerful.

“How d’you know I’m nice? Could be proper bad, me.”

Harry leans in a bit, says confidingly, “With eyes like that, I’m willing to take the chance.” Then, because he really is cute, and there’s just. Something about him that’s pulling Harry, something beyond the blond tips and clear eyes and raw-bitten lips. Something that feels like home. “If you’d take a chance on me, I’d love to buy you a coffee. There’s a stall three down, if you’d like.”

“Mamma Mia or Abba?” The boy asks, the ghost of a smile back now, and Harry sniffs. 

“Mamma Mia, obviously. Can’t beat Colin Firth and Meryl Streep, can you?”

“Suppose not.” He worries at his lip for a minute, then, seeming to make up his mind, throws his shoulders back. “Sure, all right then. Don’t drink coffee though, but y’can get me somethin’ else, if y’like.”

Harry’s grin widens. “Me neither! I’m on this, like, cleanse, right? You just eat fresh fruits and vegetables for a week straight, and then only apple cider vinegar mixed with maple syrup for two days after that, and it really cleans out your gallbladder. I think they do smoothies too, if a smoothie sounds okay?"

“You’re fuckin’ crazy,” the boy says, but he sounds remarkably cheerful about it. “Yeah, sure, long as mine’s not got any vinegar in it, what the hell.”

“That’s what my alpha says,” Harry shrugs, “but he’s usually smiling, too, so I don’t worry too much.” He pauses, scenting. “Have you got an alpha, then?” 

The boy tenses, taking a quick half step back before he says, “I - yeah.”

“That’s good," Harry says, almost absently, pretending like he hasn’t noticed the reaction. "I think everyone should have an alpha, if they want one. And if they're nice, of course. Zayn's really nice. Sometimes he pretends like he isn't, but that's just because he thinks he has to, really he's lovely as anything. Oh, Josh, can I have two mango apple banana smoothies, please? How's the band coming along?” He half turns away, giving the lad some space to breathe while he chats about the new band Josh is trying to put together even though he can’t find guitarists that’ll stick around long enough to make anything sound decent.

He turns back when the smoothies are ready, proffering one with a rueful smile. “Sorry, if I - " He shrugs a little. "I should've been a bit more tactful, I know some people don't like talking about being, y’know." A wolf, he doesn’t say. "But honestly, people around here are really nice about it."

“Oh, I - “ He takes it, shoulders still a little hunched. “Yeah, it’s fine, innit, just. We just - moved here, so. Still a little careful, is all.”

Harry nods sympathetically. “Yeah, it was a bit weird at first, when we moved here. Where we used to live, there were lots of packs around, but here we’re sort of the only ones except - well, except for you lot now, obviously. But you - both of you - should come over and you can talk to Zayn. He knows lots more about the area ‘n who’s friendly and all that than I do.” He takes a big slurp of his smoothie, tries to sound more casual as he adds, “Just if you want to, obviously. No pressure or anything.”

“Right, um.” The boy wipes his hand down his trousers; smiles weakly at Harry. “Yeah. I’ll ask.”

“Cool.” Harry will take what he can get, and he really really doesn’t want to lose track of this boy yet - or ever, really. “Listen, I was going to go down to the woolens stand, see if they’ve got anything new. Wanna come with?”

He can see the indecision playing out on the other boy’s face, and he holds his breath, crossing his feet since both hands are full. He sees the blue eyes flick down to them and then to Harry’s face and that quicksilver smile comes back. “Are you crossing -” he breaks off, shaking his head. “Okay, then, mate, sure.”

“Wicked,” Harry grins, feeling happy enough to float right off the ground. “Last week they had these awful Christmas ones, with like, reindeer on? And they were really horrible, one of them they were, like, humping each other? And the other one they were pooping." He tries to look disapproving, but the corners of his mouth twitch a little.

Like he’d hoped, it surprises a laugh out of the boy. “Sounds great, bein’ honest.”

Harry gasps, eyes wide in mock horror. “Why - Paddy O’Sullivan! I just realised I don’t know your name, but there are  _ children _ around! What if they’d seen it!” He sticks his nose in the air. “Fortunately I bought them before any innocent minds could be corrupted.”

“Make a bloody good Christmas present, I reckon. And it’s Niall. Niall Horan, so you weren’t that far off.”

Harry beams. “I know, right. I’m going to give them to my mum and sister, I think. I’m Harry Styles.” He pauses, then says slyly, “You’d better write your name down, so I don't forget it. And also your number, in case I get confused and have to ask you again." He sticks out his arm in lieu of paper.

Niall shoots him a half smile. “You still trying to pull me with bad lines, Styles?”

Harry grins up at him, shaking out his curls and glancing up through his lashes. "Is it working?" he purrs, putting just enough of a teasing lilt in his voice to give Niall an out if he isn’t comfortable with it.

But Niall just laughs, head falling forward a little as he shakes with it, transferring his smoothie to his other hand long enough to pat Harry’s curls patronisingly. “You even got a pen, lad?”

Harry sticks his bag between his teeth so he can pat himself down, frowning. "Wait here," he says indistinctly, hurrying back to the closest booth and leaning in, dimpling at the older lady behind it and coming back thirty seconds later brandishing a pen triumphantly.

"You lied to me," Niall says as he takes the pen and writes up the inside of Harry's forearm in his neatest print, "you're not a wolf, you're a witch. That old lady's always grumpy."   
  
Harry sniffs. "Mrs. Rush? She's the soul of congeniality. She always saves me the last of her samples at the end of a morning. You must just not be putting that face to good use." He leans in, confiding. "It's all in the eyes."

“So you say,” Niall says, unimpressed but smiling nonetheless. He caps the pen. “There you are, then.”

Harry twists his head and his arm simultaneously to look at the writing, untwisting to grin at Niall. "I'm going to bug you  _ all the time _ ," he says, delighted.

“Not much of a texter, me,” Niall warns, but he leans in and takes a sip of Harry’s smoothie, so the prospect can’t bother him too much.

Harry squawks, pulling it away. “Oi, cheeky! You’ve got your own. And what if it’d had vinegar in it?”

“Didn’t. Heard you tell the barista and it was the same as mine. Besides, it’s payback in advance for all the buggin’ you’re gonna do.”

Harry heaves a put upon sigh, but can’t quite squash his smile creeping out at the edges. “Fit Irish lads, thinking they can get away with anything just because they’re cute.”

“We're all like this," Niall assures him. "s' part of the ego in the suffering minds of the Irish." He says this proudly, but Harry would wager he’s not got a clue what it means.

He pulls a face anyway. “Not going to make me talk politics, are you? Because I’m honestly rubbish at them,  _ rubbish _ .”

“Nah, mate, reckon we can save that for later in this relationship.” And he’s smiling at Harry and there’s a curious kind of lightness to it and something in Harry leaps in response and he dares, “Look, I know I offered for you to just come over sometime, but - I’ve got to get these things home soon, so, like. If you’re not busy, you could come for tea today, if you like.”

Niall hesitates. “Are you sure your - alpha won’t mind?”

Harry shakes his head at once. “Nah, Zayn’s lovely, honestly.” He hesitates, licking his lips, then, “Look, if - if your alpha’s going to be upset about - like. If he’s unkind to you. We could - “

“No! No, it’s not that, it’s - Lou’s the best alpha anyone could ask for,” Niall looks very fierce, all of a sudden. “It’s not him at all, he wouldn’t mind, it’s just -” He breaks off, drawing back in on himself a bit. “My - old alpha wasn’t. The best? So I’ve just. It’s hard, sometimes, being around other people’s. It’s dumb, I know,” he adds, quick, like he’s bracing for Harry to make fun.

Harry has never felt less like making fun. He feels a bit like crying, honestly. It seems absolutely criminal that anyone would be unkind to Niall. He drinks the last of his smoothie and throws it in the bin, rubbing his hand dry on his coat before offering it to Niall. “Your old alpha was an idiot, I promise. But Zayn’s one of the good ones, I swear,” he says as earnestly as he can. “I’m really awful sometimes and he just sighs at me and shakes his head. He’s never once hit me, even when he was really mad.” 

Niall’s worrying at his lip again, and his hand is shaking a little bit, but he finally nods, almost to himself, and sets his hand in Harry’s. “All right, then.” His smile is only a bit tremulous. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

“Zayn, look,” Harry says, bounding in and dropping Niall’s hand to rub his nose into the side of Zayn’s neck and then circling jubilantly back. “I found a Niall! He’s our Niall now. Like in Finding Nemo. He’s our Squishy.”

Zayn smiles at Harry and then at Niall, getting up and reaching out a hand. “Think maybe someone else might miss their Squishy if we kept him all the time, love. Nice to meet you, Niall.”

It only takes an extra few seconds for Niall to make himself take the outstretched hand. Barely noticable, really. “Nice to meet you,” Niall says, polite. “Sorry about just barging in like this; Harry said you wouldn’t mind.”

“Not a bit.” Zayn lets go of Niall’s hand, and there’s just the slightest hint of a puzzled frown on his face before he smiles again and wanders over to the fridge, stretching with a luxurious yawn. “Not sure we’ve got anything in for tea, but I can try and find sommat.”

His head disappears into the fridge. “Fish finger sandwiches?” He suggests, voice a little muffled. 

Harry looks to Niall, who shrugs. “Fine by us.”

Zayn rummages a little longer, coming out triumphantly with a bottle of tartare sauce. “Thought we still had a bit.”

“Do you have to be home at any certain time?” Harry asks, running his hands through his curls and then shoving them back, out of his face. “Just, we’ve got the new Iron Man movie, and I haven’t seen it yet. We could, like, watch it? While we have our sandwiches? If it’s not too late for you, I mean.”

“Should be fine. I’ll just text Louis and let him know I’ll be a bit late home.”

There’s a loud crash from behind them, and they both spin, Niall ready to bolt for the back door. But Zayn’s just standing there with the whole contents of the cheese drawer on the floor, package of fish fingers in one hand, staring at Niall. 

“You’re getting mustard on your trousers,” Harry says, laughing a little, stooping to pick it up. Zayn ignores him, still looking at Niall. “Sorry, did you - I thought I smelled - but ‘s stupid, isn’t it, like.” He closes his eyes, drags a deep breath in, and his eyes fly open again. “It  _ is _ Louis!” He drags his hands through his hair, heedless for once of mucking up his styling job, and his eyes look a little wild. 

Niall takes a couple quick steps back, just in case, and Harry looks at him worriedly, stepping in between them. “Zayn, what’s going on? He just said his alpha’s name was Louis, why are you - “ He stops, eyes wide. “Wait, Louis, like.  _ Your _ Louis?”

“He’s  _ my _ Louis if he’s anyone’s,” Niall interjects, feeling confused and annoyed and the tension in the room isn’t helping anything. “‘s my alpha, isn’t he.”

“Right. Right, of course.” Zayn’s hands are shaking as he bends to finish picking up the spilled things. “I’m just - sorry, I was just. Surprised, like. Didn’t mean to - go all weird. Just. Used to know your Louis, a long time ago. Never thought I’d - hear from him again. Is all.”

It’s at this interesting moment that Niall’s mobile rings. He fumbles it out of his pocket. “It’s Louis,” he says, half-apologetic and not quite knowing why.

Zayn turns away, abrupt, and Harry frowns after him before waving a hand at Niall. “‘s fine, answer it.”

Niall raises it slowly to his ear. “Heya, Lou.”

“Nialler!” Louis’ voice rings out merrily in the too quiet room. “Just wondering if you wanted a curry for tea or if you fancy pizza.”

“Oh, um.” Niall risks a quick glance at Zayn who’s hunched over, both hands on the counter, looking about two seconds from crying. “Actually, I’m. I was just about to text you. I’m with some - an old friend of yours, I think? D’you know a - Harry? And Zayn?”

There’s dead silence on the other end for long enough that Niall pulls it away from his ear to check the call hasn’t dropped, and what if - he  _ likes _ Harry, but Zayn and now Louis are acting so weird over this. What if it’s because there’s something really wrong with Zayn and Niall’s about to be mauled and he’s just come in for tea without checking first like an  _ idiot _ , but Louis must hear his heart rate pick up because he says, quick, “You’re fine, love. Zayn’s safe, anyone with Zayn is fine, I promise, sorry to worry you.”

Zayn and Harry have been trying to look like they weren’t listening in, but just then Zayn makes a tiny, broken noise and swings to face the wall, shoulders shaking a little. Niall makes himself take a couple deep breaths, lets his heart rate settle a little. “Okay, um. I was going to - stay? Have tea and. Watch a film, if that’s okay?”

“Whatever you like, of course,” Louis says at once, voice mostly back to the gentle tone it usually is with Niall. “What film are you watching?”

“The new Iron Man, I think.” Niall glances at Harry, who smiles at him encouragingly, even if he looks a little unsure of what the hell is going on. “You could come too, probably. If you wanted.”

Harry nods at once, but Niall’s looking at Zayn. 

“I don’t -” Louis sounds hesitant, and there’s an undercurrent of a deep kind of sadness there, too, the sort that creeps into your voice about things you’ve loved and lost and cried about so much it’s just turned into a well of melancholy that’s always there somewhere in your heart. “I don’t know about that, Nialler. Might not be welcome anymore.”

Zayn whirls back around, and there really are tears in his eyes, and his holds out his hand. “I want to talk to him. Please.” His voice is shaky but his hand isn’t, and Niall says, unnecessarily, “He, um. Wants to talk to you,” and passes it over.

“Louis.” Zayn says, and it sounds like the first spring breeze that brings warmth and life instead of the chill of winter winds. Too much of the ground is still covered with remnants of the harshness of winter, too many things dead and lost under the ice and snow, but there’s hope in the whisper of warmth that blows the old dead leaves away to make room for new green and growing things. 

There’s a sharply drawn breath. “Zayner.”

Zayn’s crying still, tears dripping unheeded. “I never thought I’d - you never answered my texts. I thought - I didn’t know what happened to you, Lou, I didn’t know if -”

Harry and Niall exchange looks and then as one make for the back door as fast as they can. “I’ve never - the only time I’ve seen him like this was after we came back from seeing his family once, and he was mostly just mad, then. The crying just kind of. Happened by accident.” Harry says, sounding small. “They used to - know each other when they were kids, I guess.”

Niall nods, reaching to sort through the patch of clover in front of him, studiously looking for four-leaf ones so he doesn’t have to look at Harry. It was just - so  _ weird _ , seeing an alpha cry, especially one that looked so - so cool and collected as Zayn. “Louis used - he didn’t really talk about before except, I mean, his sisters, I guess? I knew there was -” He drags his gaze up, biting at his lip. “He said once there had been someone that he thought was - his pack. That they’d be forever, and it didn’t. Work out. That they didn’t want the same things he wanted. I just never -  _ Zayn _ , though.” He flushes hard, adds quickly, “I’m sure Zayn’s lovely, I didn’t mean to - it’s just, he’s an alpha and - “

Harry waves him off. “Nah, ‘s fine. It is weird, innit? And for us to meet randomly like we did, too, like - imagine if we hadn’t, you know?”

“Yeah.” Niall meets and holds Harry’s eyes. “Almost like - fate, yknow?”

“Yeah,” Harry echoes, and they sit in comfortable silence until Zayn comes out, dropping like someone cut all his strings at once to sit in front of Harry, nuzzling into his thigh. Harry’s fingers go automatically to rub gently through his hair. 

“He’s comin’ over,” Zayn says, muffled just a bit by Harry’s leg. “Haz, what if I - we fucked up so bad, last time. What if that just happens again? I couldn’t - I can’t lose him again.”

Harry bends so he can drop a kiss on the thin skin just behind Zayn’s ear. “You won’t,” he says, determinedly. “We’ll sit on you both if we have to, won’t we, Niall?” he appeals, and Niall nods firmly, despite the fact that he looks incredibly nervous at the prospect. “And once you’ve both said sorry and got it sorted we can have our tea and watch Iron Man and it’ll be properly lovely.” He nods, decisive, and Zayn gropes for his hand, squeezing a thank you.

 

* * *

 

“You’re the one who  _ left _ \- “

“You didn’t want me around anymore! You practically told me to leave!”

“That’s not true and you  _ know _ it! You left without a word, Lou, not even - and  _ France _ , Louis, really?”

“Like you have any room to - “

“ - and not a single reply to any of my texts or calls or anything!”

“I - what?” Louis sounds taken aback. 

“All the messages I sent? Even called a few times?” There’s a tinge of sarcasm in Zayn’s voice. “Ringing any bells?”

“I, um. I changed - after my. After Mark left my mum, I just - got a new phone. My mum was the only one with the number.” Louis looks up, the line of his throat as he swallows looking very vulnerable. “I never - I didn’t get them, Z.”

Harry and Niall exchange long looks. There were definitely a few times where they thought they were going to have to sit on Louis and Zayn’s heads, but maybe - maybe -

But Zayn’s pulling back, shoulders stiff and voice oddly formal as he says, “I hope this doesn't have to come between Harry and Niall. Right? Like. We're," he clears his throat, "we're adults 'n' everything. You don't mind them being friends?"

Louis’ mouth drops open, and the earlier softness is gone from his tone as he snaps, “The hell, Zayn, it’s not a custody battle.”

Zayn tenses, snaps back, “I know, I have no responsibility to your pack and you have none to mine. You’ve made that abundantly clear.”

Louis jerks back, looking stricken. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Zayn just scowls, and Niall sucks in a breath, because he looks - properly angry, and maybe they should just leave, maybe - but Harry’s hand settles on his, and he leans in to whisper, lips a bit soggy on Niall’s ear, “That’s his hurty frown. He’s not mad, don’t worry.”

“Look, I’m - sorry. I should have given it to you, that was - I was being a sulky bugger, and I’m sorry.” Louis hesitates. “I miss you, Zayner. I kept seeing cool stuff, and I'd turn around to tell you about it, except you weren't there, and it sucked, okay? It’s always sucked when we’re mad at each other."

Zayn crosses his arms defensively, still a bit hunched in on himself. “You were right, anyway,” he admits, low. “I was - I wasn’t the alpha I wanted to be. You were right about all of it. I just didn’t want to hear it, because it - it was easier to just hide. The other way hurt too much.”

Louis reaches out, touches Zayn’s knee almost tentatively. “I’m sorry,” he says, quiet.

“Me too. I’m - I’m sorry too.” 

In sync, Harry and Niall draw huge sighs of relief, and then glance at each other, Harry breaking into muffled giggles. Zayn and Louis look over at them and the affection and fondness is so clear in both of their expressions that they both pull horrific faces at each other to restore equilibrium. Niall nudges Harry who looks down to see a four-leaf clover in Niall’s damp palm. “Found it outside,” Niall’s smile is hopeful. “Seems like - good omen, innit?”

Harry folds Niall’s fingers over it. “I think you’re our best omen just yourself,” he says and touches the pads of his fingers just lightly to Niall’s knuckles. “Our own personal lucky Irishman, fit as anything and lovelier than the ruddy sun.”

 

* * *

 

“Zayn, I’m going to Niall’s!” Harry calls, barely waiting for the sleepy “alrigh’” before he’s out the door, humming cheerfully to himself as he meanders along. They’re going to watch the new Bake Off episode before Harry has to go to work, and then afterwards Harry’s bringing some leftover pastries back and they’re going to hang out before Harry has to go home. Unless Louis just lets him stay over on their couch again, like he has the last couple times. 

It’s not a  _ very _ comfortable couch, but sometimes Niall will come out in the wee hours of the morning when he can’t sleep because of his nightmares, and they’ll just curl up together on the couch and talk about nothing. Those are almost Harry’s favourite times. 

It’s quite a bit later that day - or, more properly, early the next day - when Harry squirms upright so he can look Niall in the face and say quite seriously, “Why haven’t we just joined packs?”

Niall, face sleep-heavy and one cheek with the imprint of Harry’s fuzzy shirt on it, squints at him. “They’re both alphas,” he says, looking bewildered, “I don’t - you can’t do that, can you?”

“They were  _ going _ to, though,” Harry says, stubborn, because this is really a brilliant plan; he can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it earlier. “Ages ago, when it was just the two of them. They said they were going to make their own pack. It was just the silly argument that got in the way. Niall,” Harry reaches out, hands clutching at Niall’s shoulders. “Niall. We have to parent trap them into it.”

“You’re off your bloody rocker,” Niall says flatly. “Go back to sleep.”

“No, I’m serious!” Harry wriggles a bit in place. “It’s perfect! You can tell they’re both horrifically in love, they just won’t admit it because neither of them think they can have it because of - us, or the fight, or some crap, I dunno. The point is, we just have to get them to realise they’re being ridiculous and that this is the best thing for everyone.”

“Sure we shouldn’t just, like, ask them straight out?” Niall says, doubtful.

Harry waves a hand dismissively. “Don’t be ridiculous, Niall. Obviously we can’t do that.”

“Obviously,” Niall sighs. He squirms down until he’s nestled more comfortably against Harry, legs twisted between Harry’s thighs and head pillowed on his stomach. “Sleep now, plot tomorrow.”

“Right.” Harry says determinedly. “First thing. D’you need another blanket, babe?”

“Nah, ‘s fine. Bloody heating pad, you are.”

“I am, aren’t I,” Harry agrees, stretching luxuriously and cuddling down contentedly. “Night, then.”

 

* * *

 

They’re in the living room waiting for Harry to come back in with tea so they can go on with Eastenders, and Niall is happy and relaxed, wriggling his toes in a pair of Harry’s socks and laughing at Zayn’s attempts to make Ernie sit up and beg for a treat.

Niall laughing always makes something settle warm and happy in Zayn’s chest, a sort of peaceful feeling that usually only comes when he’s lost in his art or fresh from a sixteen-hour snoozefest with Harry safely close, and the laughter is even more welcome as a sign that Niall is finally beginning to relax somewhat around him. Without Harry, even, and that had taken Niall a few weeks. Zayn is just wondering if he should say something about it, in an encouraging sort of way like he’d do for Harry, when there’s a crash from the kitchen and Harry’s voice calling out, “I’m fine! Just knocked a plate over, but it’s only a little broken, really, all fine.”

Zayn rolls his eyes, turning to make a remark to Niall about paper ending up being cheaper with Harry in the house, only to stop, eyebrows drawing together in concern. Niall’s out of the comfy armchair and pressed against the wall behind it, knees drawn in and breath coming in short, frantic-looking pants that are nevertheless completely silent. Zayn is up at once, moving to kneel beside Niall, keeping his voice low and gentle like he does for Harry when he’s had a bad nightmare. “Niall. Hey, Nialler, love, you’re all right, yeah? Just Harry being clumsy, everyone’s okay.” 

Niall’s eyes are on his, glassy and uncomprehending, and Zayn reaches out with one hand, waiting to see if Niall’s okay with it, that he’s not flinching away, and sets it gently on his cheek, running his thumb just lightly across a cheekbone. “Niall, my love, can you hear me? You’re having a panic attack; I need you to breathe with me.” He takes one of Niall’s limp, unresisting hands and places it on his own stomach. “There, feel me breathing? Count with me, okay? In - one two three four - out - five six seven eight, good! Again, deep breath in, feel how I’m doing it? Good lad.”

By the time Niall is breathing on his own with any regularity, Harry is kneeling beside them, cups of tea steaming on the side table behind them, face drawn and scared. Niall looks about two seconds from breaking down again, in apologetic tears this time, so Zayn quickly brings up his other hand, cupping his face gently. “You’re fine. No one’s hurt, you’re safe, everyone’s fine.”

“I’m sorry I startled you,” Harry says, shoulders hunched a little. “I’m really sorry, Niall, I’ll be more careful, I promise.”

Niall manages a smile, albeit a shaky one. “Sorry I - made such a fuss.” His voice is hoarse, and Zayn winces for him. 

“It wasn’t a bit of a problem, love, I promise.” He runs his thumbs along the thin skin beneath Niall’s eyes, wonders if he dares drop a kiss to the side of Niall’s head like he would for Harry. “Want to get up and have some tea? Maybe switch to a nice gardening program?”

“Yeah, that - sounds good, thank you,” and Niall is so clearly still shaken, but so clearly trying hard for their sakes, that Zayn risks it, pressing a quick kiss to Niall’s damp forehead. “Good lad,” he says, putting as much warmth into it as he can. “Up we get, then.”

* * *

Harry’s on the counter, legs swinging comfortably and eyes still sleep-heavy from falling asleep with Niall during Dog Cops. Louis is fixing them some tea and trying not to just stare fondly at Harry’s mussed hair because that would be creepy and bordering on inappropriate. Harry is a good friend of Niall’s is all, and any fond pack-related feelings Louis may or may not be having is purely a result of whatsit. Commutable property of affection or sommat. He loves Niall, and Harry is Niall’s good friend, so obviously Louis is going to be - fond of him. In a normal, not poaching other people’s packs kind of way. He scowls heavily at the cream.

“Everything alright there, Lou?” Harry’s voice is cheerful, because he’s not a terrible friend - Ex-friend? Sort of tentative friend you’re not really sure how to act around? - who is thinking about how nice it would be to see Harry’s sleepy morning face and eyes and hair and personality about his house all the time.

“Fine,” Louis says, curt, and then, because it’s not Harry’s fault Louis is a horrible alpha and friend, “Sorry, Curly. Just a bit deep in me thoughts. How d’you like your tea, then?”

“Four sugars, lots of milk, please.”

Louis pulls an instinctive, horrified face. “Harold.”

Harry looks unrepentant. “I like it to taste good.”

“Taste - how d’you have anything left to taste with! How have you not rotted all your teeth and taste buds out by now?”

Harry looks a still less repentant. “You always make it too strong. I have to sneak back in and add more sugar when you’re not looking.”

“Zayn lets you get away with this?” Louis is horrified. Outraged. Obviously he needs to have a sit down with Zayn and have a very stern conversation on the subject.

Harry shrugs. “It’s just tea, isn’t it.”

“I ought to ban you from the house. You should be excommunicated from England for - just tea! Of all the bloody idiocy -” Louis cuts himself off. “I’m not putting all that rubbish in it. You can have it with two sugars in and that’s it.”

Harry sighs heavily and pouts, but Louis just raps him on the knuckles and shakes his head sternly when Harry’s hand begins to creep towards the sugar bowl.

“Sort of on the subject, Haz,” Louis begins after a short moment of silence to appreciate his own excellent brew, “don’t you think perhaps Zayn misses having you at home? Not that we don’t - Niall doesn’t love having you over, but you should spend some time with your alpha, you know.”

“I spend lots of time with him.” Harry frowns a bit before it smooths out. “And he’s working a lot, anyway. Easier if I’m out from underfoot.”

“So you come be underfoot here instead, is that it?” It comes out sharper than he’d meant for it to, and he bites his tongue.

Harry just looks at him silently for a long moment. “Did I - do something wrong, Lou?” He asks, slow.

Louis reaches out, tugs on a curl. “Not everything is about you, Harold.” He tries to keep his voice soft. “Just - Zayn might miss you and not say anything, is what I’m saying.”

“Maybe there’s a solution for that,” Harry says, sounding mysterious.

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Reckon you could spend some time with your actual alpha, yeah.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “I  _ do _ . Niall’s over at ours just as much as I’m here.”

And that - Louis pauses, because that’s true, and honestly it’s part of the reason he’s so sure Zayn is missing Harry. Because he’s just - well, it’s just that he’s used to Niall being home, and it’s a bit odd is all, coming home from work and there’s no one there to light up when they see him and ask how his day was and. Well, that’s just selfishness, isn’t it, but if he’s feeling like that, then Zayn’s probably - anyway, it’s not relevant. “I’m aware,” he settles on, hoping it doesn’t sound as stiff as he feels.

But Harry’s frowning again. “Earlier, when you said - it wasn’t about me. If it wasn’t about me, what  _ is _ it about?”

Louis draws himself up to his full height, even though Harry’s still perched on the counter and therefore a full head higher than him anyway. “ _ I _ am the alpha in this scenario, thank you, Harold. Don’t have to explain meself to you, do I. Not even part of my pack.”

Harry just rolls eyes eyes again, jumping off the counter and narrowly avoiding dumping his tea all over Louis. “That remains to be seen,” he says, aiming for mysterious as he takes a sip of his tea and hitting more ‘sleep addled sloth who hasn’t quite grasped the concept of what drinking is’. Louis stares at him in bewilderment. “What on earth are you going on about?”

“All will come clear in time,” Harry says and tries to wink and sail arily out of the room and instead succeeds only in banging his head on the doorframe and spilling his tea all over  _ himself _ .

Louis sighs and takes the tea off him and wipes him down and almost manages to forget about the conversation entirely until Zayn rings him in a cloud of indignation two days later.

“Niall came over in a cream-coloured jumper and fell asleep on my couch and offered to make me lunch when he woke up.”

Louis pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at it for a second in confusion before bringing it back up. “Hello to you, too,” he says, prim. “I’m sorry, is there a problem?”

“Yes!” Zayn sounds absolutely wrecked. “He was in a  _ cream-coloured jumper _ , Lou! His hair was all soft and sticking up, like! He  _ offered to cook me lunch _ .”

Louis settles a hip against the kitchen table, feeling less than sympathetic. “Try living with it, mate.”

There’s an odd, choked noise on the other end, and Louis frowns at it before going on, working up a head of steam of his own. “Anyway,  _ your _ packmate keeps trying to wink at me and ends up running into furniture because he can’t do two things at once,  _ and _ he laughed at my hedgehog joke.”

Another short silence. “...The one with the Irishman and the book?”

“ _ Exactly _ .” Louis says, triumphant. “Honestly, Zayn, control your offspring.”

“Fuck you,” Zayn says cheerfully. “What are we going to do, then?”

“Well, I’m not telling Niall he can’t go over, so that’s your problem, I’m afraid.”

“Well, I’m not telling Harry that either.”

Louis picks at the edge of the table where the fake wood is starting to chip away. “Guess you’ll just have to. Put up with it.”

“Guess  _ you’ll _ have to put up with it.” Zayn pauses again. “...he really laughed at the hedgehog joke?”

“Thirty seconds straight.”

“...huh.”

Louis examines his fingernails. “So I’ll - see you tomorrow, then? If we’re still on for the movie.”

“Five thirty. I’ll try not to be late.”

“I’m telling Harry five so there’s a chance you’ll actually be there at five thirty.”

Zayn snorts, but doesn’t try and dispute it. “Five thirty. See you, Lou.”

“Later, Zayner.”

Louis spends a long time staring at the ‘call ended’ screen before he sighs and slips it back in his pocket and goes to finish the washing up.

It’s another week, another week of Niall and Harry being constantly inseparable whenever Harry’s not at work (and sometimes when he is - all the old ladies at the bakery adore Niall), and Harry lounging about on Louis’ couch when he gets home from work and using their shower and coming out and shaking his wet hair all over them and laughing at Louis’ dumb jokes.

Another week of Zayn ringing him up randomly to tell him about something Niall said or did or what someone at work said or did and Louis listening and laughing and wondering if it was allowed to be this easy, because - surely. Surely. With all the history between them, they shouldn’t be able to just slip back into the easy give and take without any further struggle, but the only real difference are the odd pauses neither of them can keep from leaving in their conversations. They’re not - not  _ bad _ pauses, not awkward, exactly. More - expectant. Like there’s something they’re both waiting for the other to say first, but neither can quite bring themselves to do it.

It’s late one night when Louis walks in the door after a long day at his latest temp job and Niall twists on the couch to grin up at him, phone in hand. “I was just going to text you! Harry wants to know if you’d rather he brought poppyseed or chocolate muffins home from work tomorrow.”

Louis stares at him for a long second and then turns and walks right back out the door. His brain catches up two steps out and he sends Niall a quick, hopefully reassuring text before he brings up his recent calls and hovers, just for a second, over the tiny icon of Zayn’s face before he squares his shoulders and taps ‘call’.

“Lo?” Zayn’s voice comes, sleep rough at ten o’clock because of course, and Louis says, stumbling a little over the words, because if he doesn’t get it out fast he never will, “Hey so I was just thinking, you know that part in Mulan where she's like 'you want to stay for dinner' and then her grandmother says 'do you want to stay forever?'"

There’s a long pause, and Louis is about to hang up and move to Switzerland, when Zayn says, voice a little wobbly, “We’re free tomorrow, for dinner.”

“And the rest of forever?” Louis’ heart is beating so wildly in his chest, he’s sure he sounds more like a scared rabbit than a wolf.

“Forever’s a long time, Lou. Think we can make it this time?”

“I want to try.” Louis presses a hand to his stomach, other hand so tight around his phone he’s dimly afraid it’ll snap. “Zayn. Come home.”

A breath, and - “Set us a couple places at dinner, then. We’ll be there.”


End file.
